


Wartime Preparation

by Marks



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-20
Updated: 2005-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-11 04:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a bet on and James is the prize.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wartime Preparation

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Lusty Month of May over at [Pervy Werewolf](http://community.livejournal.com/pervy_werewolf).

There's a bet on and James is the prize, even if he doesn't exactly know about it. If Lily wanted to enter, she'd surely win, but Sirius, Peter, and Remus aren't going to tell _her_. She'd had her chance with _their_ James and, as far as they're concerned, blew it royally. Besides, they are the Marauders -- Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs -- and their club is private, so private that they may as well hang a sign that reads "No Girls Allowed" on the dormitory door.

Even James gets _that_.

The bet isn't formal, of course; it's not even verbal. It's just that James is their leader, and he's the one that brought all of them together, so they clamber for his attention -- not that he can see beyond Evans's hips or the pitch or their next elaborate prank against Snivellus and their teachers. They'll make him see, though; they're determined.

Anyone looking in from the out would no doubt notice Sirius first. He's James's best mate; he's the handsome one; he's the one who bores easily, so James is always trying to replace one over-the-top scheme with the next; but Sirius is too arrogant, too _aggressive_, too...too. The funny thing is it's all an act. Remus can _smell_ the deception on him, scent out the desperate need for approval, the aching desire to be told he's something other than his family, his name. Oh, it's not as sharp or as visible as Peter's, but it's _there_ still. Sirius is like a dog that won't roll over to have his belly scratched until his Master pays proper attention to the fur on his back, even though it's been gagging for a good belly scratch for weeks.

Sirius begs for James's approval like a dog begs for a bone, but Remus knows that's not what James want -- not what he _needs_.

Peter, of course, is showier in his affections. His praise is always a bit forced, coming from a place where sincerity only visits on mini-breaks, and he's too...too, too, but it's not like Sirius. Peter wants to be noticed, will do anything to be James's second and usurp Sirius's place in his life, wants to be wanted for the sheer novelty of being the most popular boy's most popular chum. Remus knows this is fruitless, but does nothing to stop it because it hurts Peter's chances, and anything that hurts Peter's chances brings Remus closer to his goal. When Remus looks at Peter, he can see Peter's teeth bared, can see the way Peter looks at them all with mistrust (even James), can see the way he thinks of James like he's a hunk of cheese to be tucked away in some hidey-hole, labelled Property of Peter Pettigrew -- _not yours, not hers, mine, mine, mine_ \-- a commodity to be kept.

Remus knows this, knows the way the three of them know each other best, knows the way they're _family_, and they love each other and hate each other all at once. It's the way of the pack.

He also knows he will win -- until Evans gets the plot and joins the game because she knows how to _play_, even if she doesn't _realise_ it. Because Remus and Lily have something in common; they get James's attention by doing nothing at all.

***

Remus is in the Common Room, leaning over to look at the notes Lily holds in her hands and pretending to pay attention to the farce of a Prefect meeting they're having. He's trying not to watch as Sirius and Peter play chess in the corner. If he looked, he knows he'd find them shooting him furtive glances, brows wrinkled, wondering when stubborn ol' Moony will finally crack.

It's been over twenty-four hours since he learnt the exact style and colour of Snivellus's underpants, over twenty-four hours since he's said a word to the lot of them, not that he's particularly angry. Frustrated at their lack of maturity, perhaps, but it's not like that's not a trait he concurrently admires.

No, he's just waiting for--

"Remus." James saunters into the room, acting as though he owns the place, and possibly he does, all tousled hair and slightly bemused expression, tie askew and feet bare. Lily looks up, though James doesn't so much as _glance_ at her, and Remus has to hide a smirk because that's the biggest victory he's ever had.

"Remus," James repeats, and his voice is low and imploring, the word curling through the air and taking shape, the word growing fingers, wrapping around his cock and _tugging_.

With a long-suffering sigh, Remus slooooowly lifts his head and gives James his attention. "Yes?"

"Moony." James gets down on his knees in front of Remus, hazel eyes wide, begging for forgiveness. Oh, how Remus has waited for exactly this, and it takes every ounce of his willpower not to grin, not to pounce and take and rut, right there in the Common Room with all those eyes on him. "It was a joke. A prank. It was _Snivellus_."

"We're a bit too old for this, aren't we? Everyone needs to grow up event--"

Next to him, Lily begins nodding emphatically. "Potter, he's a _Prefect_. It's about time he started acting like--"

"No one asked you!" snaps James, startling Evans into silence. "Just-- Remus." He looks all around, as though finally noticing other people watching them, and Remus nearly laughs because he swore the first time James Potter noticed anything outside his focused obsessions, Remus would eat his hat.

Idly, he wonders whether felt or leather would taste better and settles on the leather.

But all hat-related thoughts are gone as James asks, "Can we get out of here? Go someplace where there aren't so many--" James's eyes, nearly imperceptibly, flick to Lily "-- strangers?"

Remus nods, struggling with every muscle to keep a straight face, and only allows himself one triumphant smile as James disappears up the stairs. Sirius and Peter see it, but he doesn't care, especially since he's pretty sure a million modifications could never wipe his mind of the memory of their jaws dropped in shock.

When he reaches their dorm, James is already inside, nervously running his hands through his hair, and Remus bites his lip because he knows full well James only does that when he wants to impress someone.

"Well?" he asks, crossing his arms, and leaning against the door, conveniently shutting it behind him. The good thing about being upstairs with the leader of their pack means the others won't dare follow.

"I-- I didn't know you'd react like this," James says, twitchy hands now fiddling with the knot of his tie. His fingers are beautiful, long and slender, though shaky, as he tugs the noose of fabric over and off his head. "I can't take it when you don't talk, you know? Like, I know we hurt Sniv-- Snape's feelings, but I didn't think we'd hurt yours, too. I was just trying..."

"To hurt Snape? To keep Sirius busy?" Remus pauses, puts on his sternest expression. "To impress Evans?"

James sits on the bed, drops his head, and looks like the little boy lost he might actually be. "Well, yeah. I mean, I'm pants with girls, I know it, but Evans is...is--"

"Different? Because she doesn't give you the time of day?" Remus walks over to stand near James's bed, leaning casually against the dresser.

"Yeah, but not exactly. She-- I think she wants me to be better than I am." James flops onto his back, flinging his arm over his face, like it's physically _painful_ to stare into the light. Remus sits, reaches over and gently pulls James's arm away before plucking his specs from his face, startled into silence by the sight of James's eyes framed by dark, sooty lashes, then again by what James says next. "Like you, Moony."

"Like me?"

"Yeah. I'll never be what you think I can be." James shifts over to make room for Remus, and Remus obliges, stretching out next to James until their bodies touch at shoulder, hip, and ankle.

Remus swallows and rolls onto one side, facing James. He's won, and now he doesn't know what to do with his prize. "Maybe you could be," he hears himself murmur.

James rolls to his side, too, their faces now terribly close together. "Does this mean you're talking to me-- to _us_\-- again?"

"I think so," Remus says, his voice low, rough, unrecognisable to his own ears. They stare at each other for a moment, eyes unblinking, until James -- leader and prize -- moves, bumping their lips together.

It's a quick press of dry lips, and Remus doesn't react at all, even though he wants this so much his heart feels as though it's about to literally burst through his chest. James is already apologising: "Shit, Moony, I'm sorry, I thought, it seemed like a--"

"James," Remus says, and James stiffens so suddenly that Remus wonders if saying his name has the same effect James's voice has on Remus. Shifting again, he sees that it does. "James," he repeats. "Shut up."

Remus reaches for James's shirt, pulls him close, kisses him hard; he kisses James as though he's starving, teeth brutally tugging at James's lower lip, tongue slick and hot and demanding, twining with the one it meets, and it doesn't matter that Remus has hardly ever done this because he _knows_. He's won the battle, these are his spoils, and damned if he's not going to enjoy them.

Urgently, James tugs him closer, breaks the kiss for a mouthful of air, and dives in again, sucking hard on Remus's pulse point. James's hands are everywhere all at once -- in Remus's hair, on his back, kneading the top of his arse, and then in his trousers, hand curling around Remus's erection in a way that words never could, and it's too..._too_.

Remus pulls away panting, shakes his head, tugs James's hand away and says, "This is what I want from you," before slithering down the bed, undoing James's flies, and pulling out his cock. His mouth is sliding over the hot length before he can talk himself out of it, and he looks up to see James's face in absolute agony-ecstasy as he arches into Remus's mouth, and though Remus feels like he's about to choke -- to _drown_ \-- he still takes James deeper, using his tongue and trying not to use his teeth.

"Oh, Remus," James breathes, moans, groans, whimpers. "Oh, _Moony_." And it's beautiful -- everything Remus wanted, his _prize_ \-- and he breaks as James does, James's fingers tangled in his hair, his cock in Remus's mouth, Remus's name on his lips, as he comes down Remus's waiting throat.

Remus smiles and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, stretching out alongside James's body.

"That was. I mean, _God_, I didn't even think--" James is babbling as he is wont to do, eyes wide, his hand flying to Remus's hip. "Oh God, do you need me to...?"

"Not right now," Remus says, resting his head on James's shoulder.

He's won the battle, he knows, but doesn't think he'll win the war. He'll take his time with his spoils while he has the chance.

**END**


End file.
